Change Of Scenery
by ennisjackgal
Summary: Sherlock and John are on their way to Dartmoor to investigate a mysterious Hound. Rated T for mild drug references.


**Change Of Scenery**

John sighed as he finally sat down in the carriage; this was going to be a long journey and he was looking forward to getting out of London, even though it wasn't really a journey with a pleasant purpose.

"How long does this take?" he asked Sherlock, who was looking out of the window with interest at the people on the platform; John knew he liked watching people and figuring them out. They watched as an older woman tried to get her dog on to the train, calling it Whiskey of all things.

"About five hours," he replied absentmindedly. "We'll be there by two, I should think. Plenty of time to get to Grimpen."

John nodded. He still wasn't sure about taking a five-hour journey with Sherlock, but he had no choice. This was a case and they had a client who clearly needed help. "So...about Henry and this Hound thing..."

"Hmm. It is curious, that he used such an archaic word. A man of his age." Sherlock had steepled his fingers together, looking ahead of him at John. "I am not sure yet what it means, but there must be some significance there."

"As long as it keeps you occupied," John replied, looking at him firmly. "Try to stay off the cigarettes, Sherlock." He knew he had to be stern; Sherlock didn't really look after himself so it was down to him. He didn't mind so much.

"They're not that bad," his friend insisted, almost sullenly. John rolled his eyes.

"Maybe not on their own, now and then, but I know you. You'll get addicted, and then what? Try something even stronger?"

Sherlock looked at John, and realised that his friend really did care about him; he wasn't sure what to say about that. "Well...I have a case now. Don't need to go down that road."

"Good. Look, Sherlock...you know you won't have a case all the time. You need to think of another way to stave off boredom. But if I'm honest...I'd sooner have you shooting the wall than shooting up." He fixed Sherlock with a firm look. "But I would prefer it if you did neither."

Sherlock nodded; he knew that John was right. He was a doctor, after all. "I know."

The train had left London by now and was heading towards Reading. The smoke rolled away and turned into blue skies and countryside; it was a breath of fresh air. John looked out of the window with interest; it might do them both some good to get out of the city for a while. Sherlock went crazy when he was bored and ended up being quite insufferable.

Still, John didn't mind so much. He liked helping Sherlock with his cases and his flatmate did have plenty of good qualities. He knew the side of Sherlock that nobody else did, since they lived together. The man could be fairly nice sometimes, and John remembered that every time Sherlock annoyed him.

He remembered one time when Sherlock had been ill with the flu; it had been a nightmare to convince him to not only stay at home, but to also stay in bed and not complain about it. John had tried his best to cheer him up; he'd been very glad when Sherlock had recovered quickly; Sherlock was the world's worst patient.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"What do you think this Hound thing might be? Were you serious about a genetic experiment?"

"It's a possibility," Sherlock replied, nodding. "But perhaps there is a more innocent explanation. Henry could be having some kind of hallucination, brought on by traumatic memories. Could even be PTSD."

John lowered his eyes. "Hmm. My therapist thought I had that...turns out it wasn't."

Sherlock nodded. "You just needed something to keep you occupied. And it looks like you found something that suits you." He was truly grateful that John was sticking around instead of being so annoyed by him as to move away. He wanted John by his side as they solved cases together; the man was becoming his best friend. Sherlock wondered if he could ever tell John that.

"Well...if I can live with a sociopathic genius, I can handle a mysterious Hound," John replied, smiling at him. "By the way, about the pig and the harpoon...how did that go?"

"Oh, it was fine. Proves that the man was killed by a seaman of some description. I texted Lestrade with the details and told him we would be out of town for the next few days."

"Right. How do you know it was a seaman?"

"The man was a sailor, and it was clearly a crime committed by someone who knew him. Wasn't difficult to get the details about his life at sea, and all I needed to do was a re-enactment of the act itself to confirm my hypothesis. The crime was most likely for money. I already told Lestrade who it was that killed the victim, so case closed."

John nodded; despite having lived together for just over a year now, he was still very impressed by Sherlock's powers of deduction. He'd never known anything like it and wondered how on earth someone could be so clever. He knew that Mycroft had his own skills but didn't seek to use them in the way that Sherlock did. Maybe that was a good thing.

The food cart went by and John got them some sandwiches and drinks; he handed some to Sherlock. "Eat, or else." Sherlock gave him a look.

"While on a case?" he asked in bemusement. "Surely you know me better than that."

"Sherlock, you just finished your last case. You haven't eaten anything since yesterday and it's not good for you. Please, just eat this." Sherlock saw the concern in his eyes and nodded; it probably would be a good idea.

As they ate, they looked out of the window at the scenery around them; they were well out of the urban areas by now. Maybe this trip would do them both some good.


End file.
